


Find You In Any World

by DeadInTheWater



Category: Literature - Fandom, Morrissey (Musician), Oscar Wilde - Fandom, The Happy Prince - Oscar Wilde, The Smiths, Wilde (1997)
Genre: 1980s, Angst and Drama, Bad Flirting, Boys In Love, Christmas, Complicated Relationships, Everyone Is Gay, Everything Hurts, Fluff, Gay Rights, Help, I Blame Tumblr, I love moz, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kissing in the Rain, London, Love Triangles, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nothing is like it seems, Other, Period-Typical Homophobia, Please Don't Hate Me, Poetry, Prison, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sad, Shock & Awe, Sweet, Time Travel, Time travel to the Future, Watching Someone Sleep, Weird Plot Shit, What Have I Done, everyone is done with the world, if this flops lets forget it ever happend, innocent!Bosie, maybe this will be long, oscar is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18468367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadInTheWater/pseuds/DeadInTheWater
Summary: 1895 Oscar Wilde was sent to jail for being himself.No it is almost 1896 and still has to stay in that horrible place. He is depressed and angry as he falls asleep on the night before christmas, thinking about how fast life can change from being amazing to absolutely dreadful. He closes his eyes just wishing to wake up anywhere but here- funnily enough exactly that is what happens.The next morning when Oscar opens his eyes he is blinded by sunlight and when he turns his head to the sky he sees a big white machine flying over the clouds. A miracle. Is he dead?After gaining a bit of his energy back, he realises that besides his ugly prison clothes, the only things he has with him are his wallet (it's empty), the script for the new story he started writing some days ago and a note saying:"My dear Oscar, if you're reading this it has worked. I will find you in any world, at any time. Enjoy 1996 and don't worry too much with that pretty head of yours. Forever in love, Bosie"Oh also there is Morrissey.





	Find You In Any World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to this new project of mine!  
> I hope any of you enjoy this little first "thing" and don't hate me for it being so short.  
> What I can say already is that this will definitly be finished :)  
> I am really loving the weird idea and if I get no readers I will just write for myself :D  
> Bad news is though that this isn't pre-written and I don't really know when I will upload! I am going to try to as often as possible of course.  
> Well, have fun with the prologue I guess.  
> -Riv

The nightsky is full of stars but no moon. I stare outside through the small window- or better I look outside.  
My eyes are too tired to really stare, or even watch anymore. It seems as if keeping them open is more out of habit than anything else.  
Sometimes not even habit is enough and I just close them even in the middle of the day. Then I don't open them again for hours and it does not matter because I didn't miss out on anything. There is simply nothing to see here. Here is in jail. Here is in hell, too.  
The lights and sounds of the big city had always bored me but now I miss them more than anything.  
No, I lied.  
I miss my boy more than the city, I miss my boy more than I miss my whole life. Because after all he is my whole life. I sigh and sit down on my bed. It is hard and it hurts my back. I do not care anymore. I am afraid I am too sad too care- but then again, how am I sad? I do not know. I don't know much these days. A lack of strengh causes me to stop thinking about it.  
I hear one of the guards knock on the door two times before it opens, The guard is younger than me and when I look up to him from the bed he grins and asks something about what I want to eat. I know there is only one meal, I know there is no choice. Normally I would have laughed but I don't.  
When I don't answer, he shrugs and places a bowl of soup on the floor. Then he smiles at me, as if he hadn't just put my dinner on the floor like other people do for their dogs. I don't smile back.  
He seems to hesitate for a few seconds before saying: „Get some sleep, Sir Wilde.“ His voice is shaking but after, he looks quiet proud. How touching, I think to myself. Does the boy expect me to be thankful now? For what? That he called me by my last name? What an honour. I could not care less about what people call me. „Goodbye.“ He says, awkwardly and leaves the cell. The bang of the door is loud and I flinch. When I was new here, I always tried to be nice to the guards, tried to make them like me, with the hope of them helping me escape someday apparently. I have given that up now. Most of the people here are horrible, some are kind.  
I like the kind ones more of course, the same way everyone would. Because they don't insult me. Because they don't hit me or make comments about tiny things of which they know will upset me. But I do not like the kind ones more because I hope to become friends with them or because I need a helping hand escaping. In the end they won't help me. The boy who brought me my soup just now is going by the name Colin, he had introduced himself to me with that a few months ago. „Sir Wilde, my name is Colin.“ I remember. Colin was quiet nice and surely he meant no harm by deciding not to treat the inmates like scum but he should not expect them to then applaud him for it afterwards. I eat a bit of the soup, it tastes like nothingness.  
My bones hurt. Prison has made me age at least ten years in the last two.  
I lie down on the bed. Colin is right, sleep is important. Tomorrow I am going to have to work and lord knows they don't allow breaks there. My cell is the last illusion of privacy, the night the one shelter I have left. '“The sentence of hard labor is a mask for torture“ I write down in my notebook because I feel like it. I was pretty surprised that they allowed me to keep it- the pen too. I sigh and close my eyes. I do not have a blanket but I feel like even if I did have one, I would still be freezing. Before I finally fall asleep I remember that it should be christmas the next day. How sad. How very sad.  
I dream about celebrating christmas with Bosie and his charming smile, his blond hair and his soft skin. I dream about talking to him and kissing him. About him telling me that he loves me and that he won't stop. I say; „I won't stop too. I won't stop, ever.“  
Then I wake up and for the first few seconds I keep my eyes closed, as always. In my head I count to five, preparing myself for the gray of the cell and the smell of the cell and the pain of the cell. One, I will have to get dressed fast today, it surely is late. Two, maybe if I work extra hard today I will get tomorrow off. Three, I laugh at my own thoughts, how incredibly ridiculous. Four, I will just have to get through it, I will just think about Bosie the entire time.  
Five, the thought repeats itself in my head, I will just think about Bosie.  
That's when I open my eyes and surprisingly enough I do not see any gray or any cell or any pain. I am outside. It echoes again in my mind because I have not yet understood it completely:  
I am outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 
> 
> ps. my english is quiet horrible i am sorry.


End file.
